First Christmas
by Cariel
Summary: Erik and Christine celebrate their first Christmas together as a married couple. A short ficlet written in the spirit of the season.


A light snow began to fall early in the evening and now covered the ground outside a small house on the outskirts of Paris. In the distance, Christine watched from the window as carriages on the road drive past, carrying families to the city centre to enjoy the Christmas lights and carollers. Most of the children remain at home asleep in their beds while the parents and relatives attend Christmas Eve mass.

Christine turned from the window to see her husband tending to the dishes in their meagre kitchen. It was hard to believe that they had already been married for seven months now. Time just slipped away too quickly now that they were together. She smiled as she remembered their wedding day. Frost still covered the windows that morning, even though it was the beginning of spring. As the first flowers poked out of the frigid ground, she donned her wedding gown, one that was made from silks she knew were not native to France, let alone Europe. Erik had insisted on the very best, even if it was a gown she would wear only once.

In all of their time together, Christine hadn't really spoken to Erik about religion, at least not about his opinion on the matter. She wondered if he thought God had abandoned him long ago and that he might not wish to celebrate Christmas. What she did know was that a priest had been kind to him and showed him music. She knew that was his first exposure to the world of music, the escape from the ugliness of the world. But she also knew that he was still reclusive and very reluctant to spend any time in the public.

It was a custom for Christine to go to midnight mass ever since she joined the opera. All of the ballerinas and chorus went together every year to the Notre Dame Cathedral. This would be the first year that she didn't go.

Magnificent organists, a choir, and cantor made up an experience that was altogether sublime. She knew that Erik would appreciate the splendour in a way that none of the other attendees would be able to comprehend. The way the music felt thundering beneath ones feet and echoed off of the stained-glass windows and coruscating archways, the choir's voices raised in unison in praise… It transcended anything of earthly value and became something entirely grand. It was something not to be missed and she couldn't help regret that she wouldn't be attending.

Erik met her eyes and she could tell that without speaking a word, that he knew something was wrong. 'What is it, my love?' he asked softly as he placed the final dish in the cupboard.

'I used to go to midnight mass with the other chorus girls,' she explained hesitantly, not wanting him to feel any guilt over her absence. 'It was a tradition for Christmas Eve and in the morning when we got up, there would be little pieces of candy, sometimes chocolates, waiting for us in our shoes.'

'If you wish to go, I will not stop you,' Erik replied. 'I would just ask that you have someone to accompany you—'

Christine shook her head. She would not request that one of her friends make the journey to their home at this hour from Paris only to have to make three trips that evening. 'If I went, I would want you to go with me.'

She could see the reluctance in his eyes and took his hand. 'It's already dark outside and we would return before the rise of the sun. No one would see you.'

Though Christine knew that it was much to ask of him, she just had a feeling, deep down, that he would enjoy the magnificence of the event.

Inevitably, he nodded his agreement and she giddily donned her thickest cloak, preparing to face the brisk wind of the winter night.

They left just in time, for the roads were getting slick and by the time they reached the city centre, it was almost midnight. Already the bells of the tall towers rang to indicate the time and the beginning of mass. There was quite a crowd of people and Christine whispered, 'There is another entrance around the back, near the catacombs, just over there—' Where she pointed was also near the police station, but the building was dark and she assumed many of them were at home or at church in their own celebration of the holiday.

Once the carriage was parked and the horse tended to, Christine took him around the opposite side from the crowd. Unfortunately, the door was barred. She frowned and looked to Erik apologetically, but he was already figuring out a way to break in and in less than a minute, they were inside the catacombs.

From beneath the church, they could hear the opening songs and Christine longed to be up there with them. She also wished that she knew a better way for Erik to experience it.

There had to be a way upstairs… Christine looked around, but it was too dark to see very well at all. Then the organist started to play. 'Can you hear it?' she whispered. 'It's so beautiful.'

'Come,' Erik said, taking her hand and following the music until it led them to the narrow winding staircase. They climbed for a very long time and Christine was worried that they might end up in the middle of the ceremony. She was not as familiar with the architecture of the building as Erik was. As they reached the top, Christine followed him through a passageway that ended with the two of them standing in a corner above all of the people.

'You've been here before?' she asked breathlessly, looking at him in disbelief.

'Many times,' Erik replied.

Christine frowned, now disappointed that she wasn't able to show him something unique.

'But never on Christmas,' he added. He gently took her hand and kissed it. 'Thank you.'

Christine's expression lightened and she joined in as the choir sang, though careful not to make their position known. It was clear that her father was looking down on them from heaven with all of the angels. Nothing would spoil this evening under their protection. It wasn't long before she was belting out hymns along with the everyone else in the massive cathedral.

After another refrain, Erik joined in, even if he didn't know all of the words and this too added to her enjoyment of the evening's festivities. She had never thought they would be here together, singing, a part of the community, even if they weren't down amongst them. And they wouldn't have a large evening meal and presents waiting for them at home, just being here with him, experiencing this transcendent unification of music and song, was enough for her. Seeing the joy magnified in Erik's face made her happier than anything did. Their first Christmas would be remembered for years to come.

'Happy Christmas, Erik,' Christine whispered on their carriage ride home.

'Happy Christmas,' he replied before stealing a kiss.

The horse trotted merrily through the blankets of snow as Christine huddled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.


End file.
